never high enough


I don’t care if Monday’s blue,
Tuesday’s gray and Wednesday too,
Thursday I don’t care about you,
It’s Friday I’m in love!

One more day till New Years Eve! Have fun but be careful out there. I can’t wait to see what 2017 has to offer for all of us!

Be well and Happy New Year!!!!
Marty (Raleightransplant)

Running into former high school classmates at the bars

So imagine if instead of being notorious criminal overlords the FAHC were that one group of disgruntled office employees quietly sticking it to the man through petty theft, mild property damage and passive aggressive notes.

Geoff as the totally disenfranchised manager, who hates his cohort and higher ups more than any of his underlings could manage, constantly muttering insults about everyone under his breath and watching the clock tick the day away. He has somehow, very much unwillingly, managed to accidentally start collecting a little group of equally resentful coworkers to complain to and plan tiny little revolts with.  

Michael and Jeremy as workerbees under Geoff, who sit in neighbouring cubicles and spend most of their days complaining to each other about this nightmare office and coming up with excuses to call Gavin up to hang out with them. Together they play really petty little tricks on one of the managers who always screams at everyone, and when Geoff catches them at it one day they think they are done for. Jeremy sees his life flash before his eyes, Michael is halfway through fantasising about flipping some desks on his way out, but Geoff just makes a suggestion, tells them last week’s efforts were much more impressive, and goes about his way. From that point on he really can’t get rid of the two of them.

Gavin as IT’s wonderchild- there isn’t a piece of hardware he can’t coax into working or any kind of software he can’t navigate in his sleep. That’s really the only reason he hasn’t been fired a million times over, what with the way he ignores clothing standards (except for on  his inexplicable ‘Fancy Fridays’), rarely bothers with appropriately respectful deference, spends way too much of his time hanging out at Michael’s desk and keeps breaking into peoples accounts and leaving juvenile jokes and embarrassing viruses. But he’s just so damn good, and the fact that the terrifying head of IT has a huge soft spot for him doesn’t hurt.  

Ryan as the head of the IT department who almost everyone is legitimately scared of. Who likes the computers much more than the idiots who insists on breaking them, glowers at everyone who brings him their stupid problems and is way more built than any tech nerd has any right to be. Ryan makes the whole group amusingly nervous at first, he and Geoff have a whole infamous history complete with a public screaming match over an unrecoverable destroyed hard-drive after all, but Gavin drags him along to enough lunches for everyone to see he’s mostly just a very cranky marshmallow.

Jack who works in human resources and used to be so optimistic, legitimately trying to improve everyone’s experience before slowly getting crushed under the growing hatred for the business. Jack who knows exactly who is responsible for the near daily complaints their office receives about anonymous troublemakers but is just as exasperated with the management as everyone else so helps keep them all out of trouble.  

They take their lunches together, occasionally joined by Lindsay from administration and, strangely enough, two members of office security, Matt and Trevor. They make a pretty motley crew; half unnaturally peppy, half perpetually angry rainclouds, sharing each others misery and covertly planning their next big rebellion. Stealing stationary and packed lunches, spiking the punch at office parties, sabotaging the photocopier, posting embarrassing google histories, accidentally uncovering their bosses’ shady white collar dealings and making off with millions of dollars in stolen money. Wait, what?


nearly witches // panic! at the disco

imagine jed as the fun substitute for mr. octavius’s class

and every time octy comes back, his class whines about how fun the sub was and why cant you be more like mr jedediah and wah wah

meanwhile jed only hears horror stories of the evil mr. octavius who gives tests every monday and doesn’t grade on a curve

and so they never meet but spend the entire school year slowly learning to hate each other based on whatever they hear from the class

until Mr. Daley catches the flu and Jed’s the only available substitute- and his classroom just so happens to be opposite Mr. Octavius’s

I’ve always failed in suicide high
I never did enough to let myself die
I threw up the pills
And I unknotted the rope
I came down from the stool;
Clinging on to false hope
I knew I had failed
Tears spilled from my eyes
I was the only student
Still standing alive
The principal shook his head
While the teachers just stared
I couldn’t admit
That I was fucking scared
A failure, a disappointment, a waste of a life
All I had to do was pick up the knife
My problems always seem to exacerbate
So this year, I’ll be sure to graduate
—  graduation (aborderlinesuicide)

Sydney James has played basketball almost her entire life. The only problem is that Tree Hill High never has enough girls for a Lady Ravens’ team. Playing on the Rivercourt just isn’t enough for Sydney. She needs more than that and will do almost anything to find an actual team to play on. 

                                                Head Games

Sydney sat in the library at a table with Lucas during study hall. She tapped her pencil against her notebook paper trying to distract herself from the fact that Lucas was stalking Peyton Sawyer at the next table, despite the fact that the girl was sitting at a table with her boyfriend. It was all so damn complicated and Sydney knew that she didn’t quite factor into the equation. So, she tried to focus on math. Math didn’t give a damn who she had a crush on nor the fact that he didn’t see her like that.


Deadly ghost gun high capacity magazine assault clipz.

I never understand why people make such a big deal about high capacity magazines. The 50 rounder in the Saiga .223 doesn’t feed worth a damn, same with the drum. Half of them are just for the novelty/fun - the only remotely practical one pictured is the 40 round Magpul Pmag.

@infondmemeory she wants us to stay in “main ring” arabian hunt seat (a niche subset of typical hunt seat I’ve become really, really disenchanted with), or else for me to sell Halle as a main ring hunter and buy an actual dressage horse.

Her argument for Halle not doing dressage was that it would “take away everything she’s ever known” or something?? I tried to tell her horses don’t have crises quite like that, they can be perfectly happy switching disciplines or doing multiple disciplines, but she wouldn’t listen.

Her pro-selling argument was that we’ve never bonded as much as I would like, so it shouldn’t be a big deal to sell her to get money for an actual dressage horse. But just because I haven’t bonded with Halle, that doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to, or that I want to ditch her. Anyways, I think I mostly blame my mom spoiling her rotten and me not being at the barn enough for us not bonding.

❛❛ Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright but it's never enough ❜❜

○  ramyeon-haired

Tenemos que hablar de esto, Eliot.  — escuchó la voz de Margo taladrando su cabeza, ni siquiera se dignó a mirarla, llenando su tercera copa  — Preferiría que no.  — sentenció finalmente, vaciando el vaso directamente de un solo trago, lo suficiente para acallar unos segundos esos sentimientos desgarradores de su interior. La chica soltó un sollozo y Eliot cerró los ojos como si así pudiera ignorarlo, escucharla llorar solo empeoraba las cosas, y aunque era consciente de que todo eso era por parte de aquellas malditas botellas de sentimientos no era mucho más llevadero. En esos momentos ni siquiera aguantaba la compañía de la chica. Dejó la copa a un lado y directamente agarró un par de botellas cuando Margo abandonó la habitación.

Necesitaba estar solo, necesitaba dejar de pensar, necesitaba dejar de sentir. Caminó pesadamente por la casa, silenciosa salvo por alguna risa histérica de Penny en algún lugar en el jardín trasero y el llanto de Alice cuando pasó por delante del salón, apenas vio la cabellera de la chica acompañada por alguien, Quentin, probablemente, eso solo empeoró el nudo de su garganta. Pasó de largo subiendo hasta el piso superior. Alzó una mano, estaba algo mareado pero no lo suficiente, dejó una botella sobre la mesa de noche de su dormitorio, llevándose la otra a la boca, bebiendo hasta que el ardor del alcohol prácticamente le hizo escupir, tosiendo descontroladamente.

Ojalá sus sentimientos fueran tan fáciles de expulsar como ese alcohol. Aun así se forzó a seguir bebiendo, con cada trago su mente estaba menos ligada a la realidad, lo peor es que también estaba más perdida en sus recuerdos. Jadeó, cerrando los ojos con fuerza, por un instante en su mente solo estaba la imagen de Alice en los brazos de Quentin, el dolor sordo que llevaba meses ignorando se hizo el doble de intenso, bebió otro trago. Aun recordaba la sensación de los besos de Quentin, de las caricias en su cabello, de su nombre susurrado. Y luego escuchó los sollozos de Margo en su cabeza, en un bucle insoportable, jadeó de nuevo, en busca de aire y echó la cabeza hacia atrás golpeándose contra el cabecero de la cama, con los ojos empañados, en un estado que ni siquiera sabía si estaba llorando o se debía al alcohol en sus venas. Vació la botella con su siguiente sorbo y las náuseas no tardaron en venir a él sin embargo apretó los párpados conteniéndolas, pero eso provocó que una imagen acudiera a su cabeza el rostro de Mike, la sangre resbalando por su barbilla, el sonido de su cuello al partirse. 

Se puso en pie, tambaleándose y casi cayendo de bruces al suelo, agarrando aun la botella la arrojó violentamente hacia el otro lado de la habitación, observándola partirse en miles de cristales, sintiéndose casi liberado se volteó, todo le daba vueltas y sus manos se cerraron en lo primero que encontró, la lámpara, haciendo lo mismo con un grito de dolor.